- I want to say that Caroline No sound ageless, but that’s kind of lazy. What I really mean is that they sound like all sorts of different ages at once, almost a life flashing, albeit slowly, languidly, before your eyes. Perhaps the most faintly complimentary I can be is to say that indie-rock royalty Caroline Kennedy sounds more fresh and youthful than I’d ever have expected.
If the name doesn’t immediately ring a bell like Adalita Srsen or Janet English, her many bands that she’s pursued with an impressive consistency since the beginning of the ‘90s include the fondly remembered likes of The Plums, Deadstar and others. Those glories of the ‘90s work some fairly obvious inflections on Swimmers, the latest record for her most recent outfit, Caroline No.
On a side-note, you might not be very surprised by a veteran artist leaving a nostalgic trail back to her old stomping-grounds, but you would be if you’d listened to the last Caroline No record. 2015’s No Language mostly comprised lo-fi but floating, ethereal ambient folk served up in ten minute slabs. It’s gorgeous, in the vein of Tiny Vipers or Grouper but largely unlike anything you’ll get from the latest offering. Largely! Stick with No Language and you’ll discover a couple of no-fi, anti-folk ditties channeling an anarchic spirit which has found more of an expression in Caroline Kennedy’s most recent work.
It’s one of the things which makes Swimmers sound so youthful: this ever-so-slightly jangly, DIY approach to every song on the record. Just hinting at not really being able to play the wide variety of instruments imparts a devil-may-care attitude, an experimental edge and yeah, a youthfulness, even if the band are, in reality, operating like a well-oiled machine.
They really are: Caroline is -I’m sure- one of the very few people who can put together a floating-roster band, composed of whoever happens to be around and for it to always look like an indie-art-rock supergroup. The most regular collaborators, both of them featured here, are Mick Turner of Dirty Three, with whom she’s collaborated on a number of projects and Ian Wadley of various groups, including Minimum Chips and Bird Blobs). In all the material I’ve read about the band I haven’t seen anything about why they’re called Caroline No (I think it’s considered a faux-pas to ask bands that??). Given that sometimes it features an exclamation mark, I imagine it’s about when her collaborators throw their hands up at some songwriting suggestion and screech, “Caroline, No!” Kennedy has said that the sound of the songs, which are -first and foremost- her own work, change quite markedly depending on who’s playing them at any given time. Whether the drama I’m envisioning above is real or imagined, the result recorded on Swimmers sounds pretty democratic. Mick contributes his spacious, slightly jazzy, slightly post-rock guitarscapes, Ian his slightly nutty, experimental indie-pop-rock leanings and Caroline puts it all to work in service of her signature sounds: those glorious ‘90’s Deadstar / Liz Phair / Mazzy Star sweetnesses, further informed by smooth and relaxed girl-groups and doo wop like The Chantelles or Shangri Las.
The combined work of these accomplished musos is both sophisticated stuff and yet extremely listenable. The sound of Swimmers presents pretty much as unpretentiously as Caroline Kennedy intended when she set out to pen a clutch of bittersweet love songs. It’s kind of gobsmacking the ease with which the band glide past all the dangers associated with supergroup songwriting.
In the end what is this? It sounds like the work of a contemporary, arty, indie band in their prime, but it also sounds like the work of veteran musos with a vast array of experiences and also the ‘90s ... and the ‘60s and the ‘50s. It’s easier just to say it sounds like every age at once and it’s one of my favourite releases from everyone involved.
- Chris Cobcroft.